Slumber Party
by HarleenQuinn
Summary: When Smithers and Burns get snowed in at Smithers' apartment, the two decide to have an oldfashioned slumber party to pass the time, and things get inevitably heated between them. Chapter 10 up!
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Simpsons characters.

Please read and review! Both constructive criticism and praise are greatly appreciated! 

Slumber Party

"Smithers, it's getting late. Are you ready to go yet?" Mr. Burns asked, perturbed, as I tied my brand new tanzanite blue bow tie around my neck adroitly but with haste. I had bought it especially for this occasion. Mr. Burns and I had been invited to the most exalted party of the year, hosted by Shelbyville's wealthiest citizen, Mr. Jacob Harris. Mr. Burns and I were the only denizens of Springfield whose presences were desired at that particular, prestigious event, and Mr. Burns wanted nothing more than to attend it.

I was rather elated at the prospect myself. Unusually, I was invited separately from Mr. Burns to the party, and although I loved to be considered one with Mr. Burns, it made me feel special to be thought of as an individual member of the elite society rather than just another member's also rich lackey.

"I'm almost ready," I replied, messing one last time with my cufflinks. "Okay, let's go." I summarily strode a couple steps so that Mr. Burns and I would walk in unison out my front door.

"You know, Smithers, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were a woman by the amount of time you spending putting yourself together!" cried Mr. Burns rather dramatically and definitely exasperatedly. "And you don't even need it in the first place."

I smiled. "Thank you, sir."

"It wasn't meant as a compliment, you nitwit. I was zinging your personal habits." I couldn't help but grin at the awkwardness with which Mr. Burns use the word 'zinging.' I chuckled softly and we ambled out the door.

"That's odd. I could have sworn we took the black limo…Ah! It's snowing! Oh, blast it, it's snowing!" exclaimed Mr. Burns as we both stared into the white-soaked evening.

I put a hand on Mr. Burns' shoulder to console him. "It's okay, sir. It's just a little bit of snow."

"Just a little snow? Smithers, we'll never be able to get to the party in this blizzard! We don't even have snow chains."

We both looked at our fate and sighed. "Well, I guess we should go inside then, sir. If I can't drive us to the party, then I suppose I can't drive you home either."

"I suppose you're right," Mr. Burns said, disappointed. "Damn it, Smithers. This party would have done wonders for our careers," Mr. Burns continued as I took his fur coat from his body and hung it on the rack in the living room. "We could have possibly expanded the plant into Shelbyville if we made the right connections, and even though I detest that city, money is money. And God knows, I can always use more money."

I nodded. "I know, sir. It was a promising night. But we shouldn't let our misfortune ruin our evening, should we?"

Mr. Burns shrugged bitterly. "Why shouldn't we? If you hadn't taken so long spiking your tresses so impeccably, we could have made it to the party before the snow fell. And now we're stuck here with nothing to do. So, you know, Smithers, I think we should let it ruin our evening." Mr. Burns histrionically took a seat on my velvet couch and turned away from me, crossing his arms over his chest like an angry child.

"Sir, with all due deference, if we had left any earlier, we would be stranded in the snow on some street with no refuge. At least, we're safe here at my house," I pointed out.

"Bah, safe. But I was prepared for a night of excitement. At least we would have gotten that if we were stranded on a vacant street, but here?" Mr. Burns sighed. He looked to me. "How the hell will we pass the time?

I had some ideas. Most of which I couldn't candidly tell Mr. Burns, but some were more innocent. "We could have an old-fashioned slumber party."

"Say what?"

"You know…like children do," I explained.

Mr. Burns looked at me with sheer puzzlement and surprise. "Smithers, we're two sophisticated, grown men. Are you actually proposing we act like immature, prepubescent girls just for the sake of killing time?"

I shrugged. "Do you have a better idea?"

Mr. Burns looked heavenward to the ceiling as if it would be tender him an answer. He then looked back to me and sighed. "A slumber party it is."


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, the first thing we need to do is get out of this formal attire," Mr. Burns said, beginning to untie his tie. I watched him undress, as I had many times before, but tonight it seemed a bit different. A bit sexier. Or maybe it was just my imagination, inspired to wildness by the cold, isolated, romantic winter evening.

"Would you like me to get you some pajamas, sir?" I asked, staring salaciously at my friend unbuttoning his shirt.

He looked over to me and I pretended not to be staring. "Well, of course. Do you think I'm going to prance around here in the nude? Honestly, Smithers, sometimes I wonder about you." That statement made _me _wonder if he was referring to my intellect or my purity.

I looked in my closet and pulled out two pairs of satin pajamas. I caressed the material with desire. _Snap out of it, Waylon. Nothing's going to happen tonight,_ I told myself, although I was not quite so sure. It certainly was the ideal setting and situation for a little erotic exploration.

"Which do you want, Mr. Burns? The pink or the purple pajamas?" I asked.

Mr. Burns looked at the two pairs with confusion. "Pink and purple? You don't have blue? That's a boy's color, my friend. Not pink and purple."

"Uh…my other colors are being washed, and well, I bought them in a set of all colors," I said unthinkingly, but Mr. Burns bought it.

He shrugged. "I'll take the pink. It flatters the undertones of my skin." I sighed. One moment Mr. Burns would go and protest the colors pink and purple in favor of a more manly color, but then the next moment he would say something so effeminate and self-aware. God, that man confused me!

As I handed Mr. Burns the pink pajamas, he began to undo his belt buckle. "Ah, Smithers, no peaking!"

I chuckled. "Mr. Burns, I see you naked every day."

"Well, not at night."

Confused, I asked, "What, do you still produce that radioactive glow at night? I thought that condition had ceased its reign of terrors months ago."

Mr. Burns rolled his eyes and tossed his belt on the couch. "No, I just don't want you to get any ideas."

I stood there, shaken by this remark. "Wh-what?" _Had he found me out? How had he finally found me out? What was he thinking now? _

He looked at me with bemusement. "What's your problem, Smithers? I was only joking. You look like you've seen a ghost."

I tried to smile and titter. "Heh. Oh, I was just…a bit taken aback."

"Hmmm…you're an odd fellow, Waylon," he said with a smile. "Now go get changed and we can begin our party. It is actually starting to sound kind of…well…fun."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," I said, still a bit dazed. "Um…I guess I'll go change in my room."

"What? That's not very fair now, is it?"

I stopped my steps. "What do you mean?"

"You've had to see me naked all these years; I think it's about time I get to see you in the buff." Before I could say anything, I only wore an expression of astonishment, to which Mr. Burns laughed and said, "By god, man, you need to lighten up. This is a party, is it not?!"

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. I chuckled slightly. "So, I'm presuming you were joking about that last statement too, then?"

"Of course. Now, go change and by the time you get back, be in the mood for some fun," Mr. Burns said, pulling the pink pajama shirt over his head. "I mean, Smithers, this was your idea. And I'm trying to get in the mood, so loosen up. We're going to have some good, old-fashioned fun tonight."

"Okay, sir. I'll try to unwind," I said. I smiled unsurely and went into my room to change. I thought all the odd comments Mr. Burns had made that night. Not wanting me to get any ideas seeing him naked at night? Thinking it was fair to see me in the buff? Wanting me to 'get in the mood' and 'be ready for fun'? Was he trying to tell me something, maybe even subconsciously?

I shook the thoughts out of my head. _Just be happy he's making an effort to have fun. Just be thankful his mood was so easily changed. Don't hope for anything more, _I instructed myself. However, I just couldn't help but wonder. And maybe hope just a bit.


	3. Chapter 3

AUTHORESS'S NOTE: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I don't have a meticulously-planned outline for this story yet, so I am open to suggestions from my readers at this point. Any review or comment is greatly appreciated! Thank you, and happy reading!

I did manage to unwind a bit after getting changed into the softest, silkiest pajamas I owned. The fabric against my skin luxuriously made me feel at ease, although my heart did begin to race again when I walked out of my bedroom and saw Mr. Burns, looking rather delectable in my night clothes, although both the shirt and pants were obviously too large for his small frame.

"Smithers, these pajamas are preposterously oversized for me!" complained Mr. Burns as he turned around to see me.

"They look just fine, sir," I assured.

"Well, then why were you staring at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I was from the planet Neptune or something?"

I chuckled nervously. "I was just thinking…uh…well, I suppose they are a bit big. But it doesn't matter." Getting a bit of a courage boost from Mr. Burns' insecurity, I decided to test the waters a bit: "I mean, it's not like you're trying to look good for anyone tonight, right?"

Turning to me swiftly with surprise, Mr. Burns replied, "No, of course not. I mean, it's just me and you after all."

"Precisely my point," I said slyly.

Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could have sworn I detected a slight blush color Mr. Burns cheeks before he turned away and said, "So, let's get this party started." He hesitated. "How do you suppose we do that?"

"Um…" I began, looking around my house for something that might prove pleasing to Mr. Burns and also fit the criteria of old-fashioned slumber parties. My eyes landed on the Malibu Stacy dolls. They fit the latter criterion quite well, but not so much the former. "I think I have some board games in my garage," I suggest finally.

"Board games?" Mr. Burns' eyes seemed to light with pleasure. "Like Scrabble?"

I smiled. "I'm sure I have Scrabble somewhere, if you'd like to play."

"Actually, I would. I haven't played Scrabble since I was a young boy," Mr. Burns began, and as much as I wanted to hear him tell a story about his childhood, we needed to get things moving if a romantic escapade was in the cards for us tonight.

"Okay, I'll go get it. I'll be right back. Make yourself comfortable," I said excessively as I hurried to the garage to find the game.

When I arrived back, laden with a bit of dust on my skin and silk, but with the game firmly in hand, I looked to the couch where I expected to find Mr. Burns. He wasn't there. For a moment, panic struck my heart, but then I realized that no normal person would be content with sitting on a couch waiting for me when he could be exploring…Oh, God…

I put the game down on the table and turned with anxiety to discover what Mr. Burns had discovered about me. I prayed that he didn't perchance turn on my computer to find himself, naked, offering a fragmented sentence he only in my fantasies delivered. I hoped that he wouldn't be stooped over my diary who would be perfidiously confessing my untold love for him. I wished that he wouldn't ascertain my feelings through these meaningless evidences of obsession.

"Mr. Burns?" I called out as I began to travel to my bedroom, where most of these indications would have been stored.

"Smithers, I'm in here," replied Mr. Burns. He sounded like he was in…the kitchen. _Oh, I might not be a Christian, but thank you, God. _Although, he also sounded like he was in pain.I hurried to the kitchen and found my love struggling with all his potency (or lack there of) against an ice cream scoop. "Smithers, I can't…ugh…get this…scoop of…iced cream…"

I crept up behind him and placed my hands on his. He looked up a bit startled at this action, but I didn't meet his glance. Instead, I pulled and he pulled with me, and together, out came a beautiful hill of vanilla ice cream. "We did it, Smithers! Huzzah!" exclaimed Mr. Burns. He lifted one hand and I stared at it in confusion. "It's a high-five, you numbskull. Come on, Waylon, I'm the old man here."

"Don't say that, Mr. Burns. You possess the youth and energy of a perfectly fit teenage boy," I said lovingly, awkwardly going through with the high-five.

Mr. Burns chuckled. "Well, I don't know about that, but thank you. Now get the paper bowls and let's commence our game of Scrabble."

"Actually, sir, I thought we could use the good china tonight," I said. "It's not too often I get to entertain you in my house, and well…"

Mr. Burns set the filled ice cream scoop down on the counter and began to sashay into the family room. "Well, be swift. The iced cream will melt soon at the rate you're going."

"Will do, sir," I said, not being able to help watching him walk away, my heart as always teeming with unconditional love for the man. I gladly prepared the bowls and utensils and ice cream and Scrabble and anything else Mr. Burns asked for because my love usually shielded me from any resentment about my thousands of duties. And once in a while, Mr. Burns would do something for me. Maybe not something grand or noteworthy to most. But I noticed that he was attempting to have ice cream ready for us if I hadn't gotten back when I did. Perhaps it was an attempt at gratitude. Perhaps not…

"Smithers, we don't have all night!" cried Mr. Burns from the other room.

I smiled. "Actually, sir, we kind of do." And this was one of the greatest feelings of all. The night was young. And so were we, at least in my mind.


	4. Chapter 4

AUTHORESS'S NOTE: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! Any review or comment is greatly appreciated! Thank you, and happy reading!

"Watch out Stanford graduate…" Mr. Burns said threateningly as he examined his letters. "…because the Yale man is going to crush you into a million pieces!" He chuckled evilly and placed the letters 'braises'.

I nodded and smiled a bit to myself, with the tacit knowledge of my good hand. "Very good play, sir…" I began, feigning defeat. "But not as good as mine will be." I formed the word 'decrepit' down on the board and looked up to see Mr. Burns' surprised and sour expression.

"Damnation!" he cried. He looked at his letters. "Oh…I have nothing…um…Fine…" He formed the word 'love' on the board and sighed.

I looked at the word and then back at my friend, I suppose a bit oddly, because he stared back at me and said, "What's the problem, Smithers? Do you have to pass a turn?"

I shook my head and quickly replied, "No, no. Um…I was just…I was just thinking about love."

A bit uncomfortably, Mr. Burns asked, "What about love?"

"I don't know. Just how in Scrabble we can spell it out so easily on the board with these cold, inanimate blocks, but in life…well…that word rarely escapes our mouths," I offered with a self-conscious shrug.

I assumed Mr. Burns would glaze over my words and continue with the game, but instead he continued to stare at me with an indecipherable expression. "Yes, I…suppose that's true. I don't remember the last time I told someone I loved them," he said, looking down a bit sadly. "Do you?"

I was taken aback by the question. Mr. Burns rarely inquired about my love life, and I even more rarely volunteered to tell him anything about it, even now."Um…I…I guess that would be you, sir. I don't know if you remember but last month, when we went to the company dinner benefit, you became a bit tipsy and I had to accompany you out of the party early and tend to you at home."

Mr. Burns rolled his eyes. "Yes, I remember that dreadful party. Honestly, Smithers, why did you let me get so smashed in the first place?"

"I don't know, sir. I thought you were just having fun, and I liked to see that, I guess."

"Yeah, some fun it was to have all of my employees staring at me like I was akin to some blue drunk!" exclaimed Mr. Burns resentfully. Before I could apologize yet again, Mr. Burns sighed and said, "Nevermind. Continue with your story."

"Well, I was tucking you into bed and making you tea, and you were having a bit of a fit…"

"I don't recall that."

"You were pretty out of it, and I tried to calm you down with Bobo and it worked a bit, but you continued to slur: 'Smithers, go back to the party. I'm okay. We need at least one intelligent person to represent the plant at that god-awful gala.' And I told you no, that I would stay with you. And you didn't resist, and then I…well…told you I loved you." I looked away firstly, embarrassed and scared, then to Mr. Burns for his inevitable reaction.

His face remained illegible. "Did I say it back?" he questioned.

"No, you didn't," I told him dolefully.

We both focused our eyes on anything but the faces of one another, until Mr. Burns looked up uncomfortably and said, "Well, Smithers, you know that I…" He looked at me, almost pained. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You know that I…" I waited anxiously. _Just say it, my love, but only if you truly feel it. Please. _"I…need to go get some more iced cream. Mine's melting. I'll be right back."

As I watched Mr. Burns walk away from telling me he loved me, a million thoughts paced through the recesses of my mind. _Maybe he just doesn't love me. Maybe he doesn't love me, and he couldn't lie just for the appropriateness to reciprocate. _These thoughts made sense. I had seldom seen my friend do anything just to spare the feelings of another. If he didn't love me, he wouldn't claim to just to make me happy, especially because if he didn't love me, my happiness would be inconsequential to him anyway.

I stared at the Scrabble board, gazing sullenly at the word 'love', before knocking the letters off the board in despairing rage. Then and there, I decided to put any hope for a romantic episode between the two of us that night aside, hoarded away in the niches of my countless unanswered dreams. There was no possibility of our love being cemented that cold night. Mr. Burns couldn't even tell me he loved me. Or worse, he couldn't even love me at all.


	5. Chapter 5

AUTHORESS'S NOTE: Once again, thank you all for reading and reviewing! Every word is treasured. :) Enjoy chapter five, and please continue to R&R! And a bit of shameless self-advertising: I posted the first chapter of a new fic I'm writing "Staggering Serendipities", and I'd love if you guys checked it out. :)

A while later, when the severe awkwardness had worn off a bit, I won the game with any Scrabble-fanatic's favorite word: 'qi'.

"'Qi'? What the hell is a 'qi'?" Mr. Burns had asked, unsure if he wanted to challenge me or not.

I explained, "Qi is the crucial force that Taoists and other Chinese think to be innate in all things. Unhindered transmission of qi and equilibrium of its opposing forms in one's body is believed to be vital to good health in conventional Chinese medicine, and…"

"Okay, okay. You can shut up now. You win," admitted Mr. Burns reluctantly, but with a slight smile on his face.

I smiled and offered my hand. "Good game, sir. You're quite the Scrabble player."

"Says the winner? Ho, ho. Smithers, your sycophantic ways are sometimes rather maddening, you know," said Mr. Burns as he wiped the board clean of its blocks.

"Mr. Burns, I'm no sycophant," I said, helping him put the items away in their box. "I want nothing from you."

Mr. Burns scoffed. "Oh, really? So, if I were to dock you of your pay, demote you to being a safety inspector, and rob you of the luxuries your fortune proffers you, you would still flatter me the way you do?"

"Once again, I'm going to have to correct you, Mr. Burns. It's not flattery I offer, because flattery by definition is insincere or excessive praise," I began. "Neither of which what truth could be."

Mr. Burns looked from the board to me with surprise. "Truth? Smithers, your compliments _are _excessive and seldom very true, and you know it."

I hesitated. "Well, _I_ think they're true. But maybe my sight is just impaired by my…"

Mr. Burns looked anxious. "But your what?"

I paused. _Should I just say it? By my love. By my love. I love you. No. No. I already know he doesn't love me, so what's the point anymore?_ "By my appreciation of you…as my friend."

For the briefest of moments, Mr. Burns seemed disappointed, but then he smiled and said, "Well, okay, then. I'll never call you a sycophant again, okay, old friend?"

My heart hurt from holding back my feelings yet again. I was so sick of it, and it made me feel physically ill more often than I'd like. "Okay, sir," I said, affecting content levity. "So, what would you like to do now?"

Mr. Burns attempted to rise from the carpet but needed to me to help him up, which I gladly did. He then said, "Thank you, Smithers. Now, let's see…what should we do…" He began ambling to the family room and looked to a cabinet near the TV. "We could always watch a movie," he began as he paced toward it.

I tried to stop him.

I failed.

"Smithers, what in blinking blue blazes is _this_?" exclaimed Mr. Burns, turning towards me and holding up the one video I prayed he wouldn't find: an adult video entitled "Bob and Jerry XXX", the cover featuring two males in a compromising pose.

I felt like someone took a match and lit my face ablaze as I stumbled towards Mr. Burns and stammered, "I…I…don't know. I've never seen that before." Sometimes I was an exceptional liar, but somehow I doubted that this was one of those times.

"Well, then how did it get in your movie cabinet?" questioned Mr. Burns, looking curiously at the cover.

I gulped. Oh, God, I actually gulped. I thought only cartoons did that so on-cue. "Um…I don't know, maybe one of my friends brought it over as a joke…Heh. Yeah, that's probably what happened."

Mr. Burns raised his eyebrow at me and gave me the same look he did after I kissed him before the supposed apocalypse. "Hmmm…well, I'm up for some good, old-fashioned pornography if you are."

_Dear God! _"Oh…well, it's not really like the ones you've seen."

"How do you know? You've never watched it, have you?" Mr. Burns asked cunningly.

I chuckled nervously. "Well, no, but…"

"Then let's watch it and find out."

I couldn't breathe as Mr. Burns tried to shove the video into my VCR with all his might. Didn't he see the cover? Didn't he see that it was two men? What was he going to think? And what if he didn't believe my stupid lie? I almost began hyperventilating.

We sat there on the couch as the film started. And by God, it started quickly. No lead-up. No storyline. Just sex. Between the men. Hasty and rough. I wanted to look at Mr. Burns' expression to know what he was thinking, but I was too damn embarrassed to do so.

A few minutes into it, I was feeling more uncomfortable than perhaps I ever had before. I reached for the controller and turned the video off, now looking to Mr. Burns. He looked like he had seen corpses rise from the grave. "What…the hell…was that, Smithers?" he questioned.

I looked away. "Like I told you, my friend gave it to me…I don't know…"

"I've never seen anything like it!" cried Mr. Burns. I didn't know exactly how to respond, so I simply waited for his next comment. "Smithers, do males actually do this…in real life?"

Astounded by my friend's ignorance of the modern world, I stuttered, "Well, well, yes, they do. Certain men, of course."

Mr. Burns shook his head in incredulity, his mouth still gaping. "You know, I think a movie wasn't the best idea," he began. Then he abruptly added, "Let's play Twister."


	6. Chapter 6

AUTHORESS'S NOTE: Once again, thank you all for reading and reviewing! Every word is treasured. :) Enjoy chapter six! And I would also like to thank Snookiepuf for her brilliant idea for these two to play Twister! I have never myself played, so I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies I may have portrayed with the game. :) Happy reading!

The world outside was now completely a canvas of pearl-hued snow, glistening softly under the cerulean glow of the moon. It was quite a beautiful sight, the manner in which the moonlight struck the white-washed outdoors with just the right balance of light and dark to bring out the natural silky shimmer of the snow. Mr. Burns and I had paused by my window for a moment to gaze at the beatific, winter scene before bringing out the game of Twister, for which I was increasingly anxious. Even the halcyon scene outside my window could not sooth my nerves.

I remembered the popularity of playing Twister during my college days. On those drunken nights in the dorms, Twister was always interpreted as a sexual and dicey game. Even though it may not have originally been fabricated under those thoughts, it was obvious that that was what most considered modern Twister to be, especially if played with one's love interest on a dark, isolating evening.

However, Mr. Burns had no conception of modern thinking. Or so I thought. I assumed he must have had the purest idea of the game in mind when he suggested it, but there was a small slice of doubt in my own mind about this presumption. Maybe it was my imagination once again fleeing reality, but something told me that Mr. Burns chose to play Twister for reasons more akin to my frat brothers than to children.

_Come on, Waylon. Stop it. Don't get carried away here. You know that only makes it more painful when the truth is revealed and it is not the one you spun in your chimerical mind. _

I knew it was true, so I shook any doubts out of my head, and said, "I'll go get the game set up. You can stay and watch the snow a bit longer, if you'd like."

Mr. Burns turned to me and smiled, nodding, and turned back to the snow. I watched him for a moment as he stood there, looking so focused and abstracted. "Is everything all right, sir?" I asked.

"Everything's perfect, my dear friend," dreamily said Mr. Burns, not turning away from the window. I waited for explanation but received none. I stared at him and smiled slightly, hoping that I was in some way responsible for Mr. Burns' sudden proclamation of perfection.

When the game was set up, Mr. Burns finally turned away from the window and stood next to me, staring at the brightly-colored circles of the game with childlike interest. I grinned. "Mr. Burns, you have played Twister before, right?"

"Of course, I have! This was my favorite game to play at Yale," said Mr. Burns, smiling at the recollection. "Ho, ho. There were some sexy times produced on that Twister mat, I'll tell you that, Smithers."

I felt my eyes grow wide. "Sexy times?"

"Well, Smithers, I was once a young man. I did have the normal urges of a twenty-year-old, believe it or not," said Mr. Burns, a bit insulted.

I shook my head, explaining: "Oh, I don't doubt that at all. You're still a very…I mean, I was just…well…taken aback by your knowledge of…"  
"You thought I still viewed Twister as purely a child's game?"

I paused. "Well, yes. Kind of."

Mr. Burns began to chuckle. "Oh, you. I'm not that naïve. I know it often gets a bit heated. But you and I don't have to worry about that. So, we can really play the way it was intended, yes?"

My heart still racing and my mind trying to process everything Mr. Burns had said, I put my sweaty palms in the pockets of my pajama pants and stammered a pathetic: "Um…yes."

"Okay, then, let's get playing," said Mr. Burns, attempting to spin the spinner forcefully, however only making it move over one space. "Huzzah! Left hand on red."

The game had been going for a while before I decided to spice things up. I mean, how many opportunities does one really receive to get tangled up with the person they're most attracted to in the whole world? Not many, and especially not many with someone like Mr. Burns, so I decided to take advantage of the situation.

Our current position was currently a rather mundane one, with my right hand under my back somewhere on a blue circle, my left hand contentedly outstretched slightly to a red circle on my left, and my feet comfortably next to each other in front of me. Mr. Burns was in a similar position next to me. And I knew that all I had to do was spin my right hand on the green circle for me to be basically atop Mr. Burns, and although the odds of spinning that exact position were unlikely, I didn't care about the odds anymore.

I noticed that Mr. Burns never actually watched as I spun. He just waited for me to tell him what I got. So, I simply spun a displeasing position and further spun a lie. "Right hand on green," I told him as I got into the position.

Noticing the new position, Mr. Burns looked immediately at unease. He chuckled a bit nervously and requested the spinner, which I gave to him. His new move only moved his left hand adjacent one circle, and mine only moved my foot one circle. We would be in this position for a while, I suspected and hoped.

I stared into my friend's beautiful brown eyes and smiled. I had always dreamed of being in this position with my love, and now that dream was coming true. I could almost feel our hearts beating in the same rapid cadence against each other as the heat from our bodies transferred between us. I think Mr. Burns recognized this as well, which perhaps prompted him to look away awkwardly and fake a fall. "Oops, I fell. I lost. End of game," Mr. Burns said quickly, slithering out from under me.

_Damn it! So close! _I thought angrily as I watched Mr. Burns dust off his clothes._ Like everything else tonight. So close and yet so far away. _I couldn't take it anymore. The sexual tension was maddening, but even more maddening was the mixed signals Mr. Burns kept throwing my way. At that moment, I decided that for the rest of the night I would leave as little space as possible for misinterpretation. This next activity would be my choice, and it would be the most telling one.

"Mr. Burns, I'm going to make us some hot cocoa," I said. "And then we're going to play Truth or Dare."


	7. Chapter 7

AUTHORESS'S NOTE: Once again, thank you all for reading and reviewing! Every word is treasured. :) Enjoy chapter seven!

Mr. Burns seemed a bit wary of my suggestion—or rather declaration—of playing Truth or Dare and also of the finality with which I said it. He didn't tell me of this wariness, but I could simply read the nervous sheen in his eyes. However, I pretended not to notice and facilely laid out a couple of pillows on the carpet for us to relax on as we played. Mr. Burns approached me and the pillows with caution and sat down uneasily.

"Are you comfortable, sir?" I asked, knowing the real answer and hoping he wouldn't speak it.

Mr. Burns smiled slightly and nodded. "Um…yes, this is nice, Smithers."

"Thank you, sir," I said with a grin. "Now shall we begin? Truth or Dare, Mr. Burns?"

"This game is stupid," Mr. Burns mumbled, looking groundward.

"Come on, Mr. Burns…truth or dare?" I persisted. I immediately felt guilty for impelling my love to partake in a game he did not wish to, but I told myself that it was necessary to the good of us both.

Mr. Burns sighed. "Truth, I suppose. It might be fun to try something different," he chuckled, his reluctance fading a bit.

I decided to start off basic and pure, so as to not scare him away when the time for steamier questions arrived. "Okay. Truth…hmmm…" It was difficult to think of anything I did not already know about Mr. Burns, or at least anything unknown that would not cause him to blush. "Uh…what was your greatest ambition as a child?"

Looking rather relieved at my question, Mr. Burns answered, "Well, when I was a very small boy, I wanted to be the next Satan. Then as I got older, this changed to Stalin, and then finally I set my goals lower on being the next Rockefeller." He smiled. "Well, I turned out greater than Rockefeller…I guess I'll never be Stalin, and I'll have to wait a few more years to find out if they need a replacement for Satan down there. Heh-heh." I attempted to grin, but it pained me deeply to think of the day Mr. Burns would no longer be beside me. Surprisingly, he recognized this. "Smithers, are you quite all right? You suddenly look very pale and sullen."

I looked up, trying to reapply my mask of joviality. "Oh, yes, I'm fine, sir. I was just…I don't like when you talk about your death. And so cavalierly."

"How else do you suppose one should talk about death? It's inevitable, Smithers. No point in dwelling on it. And it's coming up for me, I know that. I've just accepted it," said Mr. Burns, maintaining the insouciance that continued to knife my heart.

My vision began to blur. I sniffled. "I'll just miss you so much," I admitted.

A bit taken aback, Mr. Burns replied, "Calm down, Smithers. I'm not dying _yet._ And besides, you won't have to miss me. Remember our arrangement? You'll be buried alive with me," he said, as if that thought was comforting.

I shrugged and dried my eyes. "I suppose, sir."

"Yes, it'll be okay, Smithers," consoled Mr. Burns, momentarily laying his hand on my shoulder. "Now…truth or dare, friend?"

I wiped away a final tear as I said, "Truth." I was deeply afraid yet curious of what Mr. Burns would like to know about me.

"Okay…keeping in the fashion of old slumber parties, I must ask you: whom do you like?"

"Like?"

Mr. Burns rolled his eyes. "Whom are you romantically interested in?"

Now the debate filled my head. I couldn't possibly tell him the truth. Not like this. But then, if I lied, and he knew I lied, he would be inclined to lie later, and that would defeat the entire purpose of the game. "Um…well, I guess I don't really 'like' anyone right now." That was fairly true. I didn't 'like' Mr. Burns. I loved him.

"Oh, come on, Smithers. You must like someone. You're a young, handsome man." The words spilled out of Mr. Burns' mouth and he appeared afterwards as if he had had no control over his tongue when he said it. He coughed and said, "Um…I mean, well…there must be some young lady you've had your eye on."

_Mr. Burns called me handsome! He thinks I'm handsome!_ My heart fluttered to the empyrean and I thought it may very well never have to greet the ground again. I couldn't stop smiling internally, but I knew I had to externally or my cover would be blown. "I'm telling you the truth, sir. There are no new loves in my life." Again, another form of the truth.

Mr. Burns looked a bit incredulous at me, but then shrugged and said: "Fine. Let's continue with the game."

And continue we did. An hour later, we had gone through prank phone calls, taking shots of ketchup, revealing our most embarrassing moments, kissing inanimate objects, singing humiliating songs, and a number of other things that were probably inspired after we switched from drinking hot cocoa to scotch. After I finished doing the robot dance on a dare, Mr. Burns laughed and said, "Okay, Smithers. You can sit down now. Haha."

I laughed and stumblingly sat on my pillow. "Truth or dare, Mr. Burns?" I slightly slurred.

"Dare. The truth could never be as fun," Mr. Burns said.

I don't know if it was the scotch coursing through my body or just the lateness of the hour, but something made me decide that the moment had arrived for me to make my move. "Dare…dare…" I pretended to ponder my request. "Well, in the spirit of old-fashioned slumber parties, I must dare you to kiss me."

Inebriated, Mr. Burns gasped and chuckled from surprise and asked, "Kiss you? Smithers!"

I laughed. "Come on, Mr. Burns. I dared you, you have to do it."

Mr. Burns looked around uneasily and scoffed. "Fine, fine. Come here," he said playfully. He pecked me on the lips and said, "Okay, okay, I did it. Now, truth or dare, Smithers?"

I looked at Mr. Burns, profoundly disappointed by the brevity of our kiss. I felt like someone began to pluck the feathers from the wings my heart had sprouted during the course of the evening. My heart and hope sunk like heavy anchors.

But then I remembered that I had to be in control here. Mr. Burns simply was not going to make this romance happen, but I could. With that thought in mind, I ignored Mr. Burns' question and put my arms around him, pulling him closer to me.

"Smithers, what are you doing?" he asked, chuckling a bit.

And then we kissed. Really kissed. A solid, slow meeting of our lips. The meaningless, drunken frivolity of our last kiss had vanished. Present now was an intensity like no other. I was instantly transported to a magical place where my dreams were more than musings of my fanciful mind. Where Mr. Burns and I were the only ones on the earth, locked together in this peaceful yet enthralling moment. Where the seas and skies and the hands of time ceased to move. Where reality and sexuality and decorum lost all meaning. Where just for about ten seconds, forever was attained.

And Mr. Burns closed his eyes first. Like he knew it was coming and had no objections. And when we opened our eyes and stared into each other's, I saw it for the first time. The reciprocation of my feelings.

I waited for Mr. Burns to say something. He stared and me and opened his mouth. "Smithers, I…" _Could this be it, Waylon? Could this be the moment when your life and your world change forever? Is this the moment when Mr. Burns will tell you he loves you? Could it be? _"I'm dreadfully tired. I think I should go to sleep now." He took my hands off him gently and left me on the cold, vacant ground with only my heart for company.


	8. Chapter 8

AUTHORESS'S NOTE: Once again, thank you all for reading and reviewing! Every word is truly cherished. :) Enjoy chapter eight!

"You can have the bed, sir, if you'd like," I said in a low voice, attempting to veil my confusion and sadness at the most recent events that occurred between us. Maybe I should have had hope. He _did _kiss me back after all. I _did _see the look in his eyes, that undeniable glint of reciprocation. But right then and there, he had the opportunity to be free, to let me love him and to let himself love me. And he chose against it. He chose against it. He slipped out of my grasp and decided he didn't want me. Not that way.

And now it hurt more than ever, because now I knew or at least was more certain than I ever had been that my love loved me. He was just too damn afraid or ashamed or I don't know what, but all I knew was that it was out of my control. For the first time in my life, my unhappiness was not my fault. For once, my cowardice was not to blame for the lack of love in my life.

I supposed I should have been happy. Most people would do anything to be able to blame their misery on someone besides themselves, but not me. No, not me. Because now I knew that a real, requited love with Mr. Burns was possible, it was right there, it was right there! I had felt it, I had lived it, if only for fleeting moments. It was right there.

And it never would be again, because now it was Mr. Burns' decision. It wasn't a matter of whether I should confess my feelings or not. It wasn't up to me to make a move. It was his call. And he already made it.

After tucking Mr. Burns in with awkward sorrow, we bid each other our goodnights and I took a lonely place on the couch. Immediately as my head settled into the silk of my pillow, I wondered what was going to happen to Mr. Burns and me now, after this night was over. Would we fall back into our customary roles as friends? Would the unspoken discomfiture be too much to bear? I quickly became deathly afraid of the probability of this massive elephant in the room crushing our precious friendship, that is, if the dictionary of emotions I was experiencing didn't get to it firstly.

I sighed a shaky sigh as I took my glasses off and set them on the table adjacent to the couch. Momentarily, I simply stared at them, gazing into the circles of glass like they were grand abysses. I wanted to escape into them; I wanted to erase the last hour of my life, yet there was no hour during which I had been happier. I wanted its memory but not its aftermath, not if it was going to be like this.

I attempted to impede the flow of soreness to my heart by closing my eyes and endeavoring to be submerged into the comforting, black realm of sleep. However, it was an impossible task. I looked over to Mr. Burns, resting peacefully in my bed, his hand gripped childishly onto my pillow, his chest heaving steadily with gentle breaths. I sighed. How could he be so fine with everything? How could he rest in serenity?

_Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe he was just drunk. Maybe you're overreacting again. _

_No, no, this time it was obvious. This time there is no mistaking. I kissed him and he kissed me back. There's no possibility of meaninglessness. _

With this notion, I grabbed my silk pillow and ambled over to my bed. I watched Mr. Burns a moment longer, my body crammed with overpowering love and grief. I then lowered my body to the ground, placed the pillow under my throbbing head, and curled up like a puppy beside his master. This felt right, and I suspected I would be able to get some sleep if only I imagined that this was just another nap at the plant, that nothing had changed.

I envisaged the normal scene: just a normal day at the plant, the afternoon sun sprinting through the gargantuan windows, the low buzz from the surveillance cameras creating a recognizable soundtrack to the day, Mr. Burns dozing placidly in his chair, his hand descending down onto my back where I slept happily on the floor.

I felt my heart begin to slow its velocity at the imagination of the familiar, tranquil scene. However, at the juncture during which my mind began to drift off into sleep, I realized that Mr. Burns' hand on my back was not only in my dream. I opened my eyes and looked up to the bed, where Mr. Burns lay, staring down at me.

"Mr. Burns?" I asked. "Are you all right?"

His expression went unaltered. "I'm…cold."

I stood up slowly and asked, "Would you like a blanket?"

He shook his head. "Why don't you just climb in next to me?"

"What?"

"I need the warmth of another human being, not some flimsy piece of fabric," said Mr. Burns in an unrecognizable tone.

Stunned, I almost rejected the demand. I wasn't sure if I could endure this, not if it was going to end with us becoming closer and Mr. Burns once again walking away. _But he's your boss. You have to do this. He's your best friend. You have to do this. He's the love of your life. You have to do this. _

I climbed in bed next to Mr. Burns and we lay there, a gauche and heartbreaking chasm between us. He then turned on his side, and I unthinkingly did the same, closing the chasm and putting my arm around him. We lay like that for a few minutes, I suppose neither of us comprehending what was happening. And then Mr. Burns turned to his other side, facing me, and then he did something I seldom saw him do. He buried his face on my shoulder and began to cry.


	9. Chapter 9

AUTHORESS'S NOTE: I'm sorry for the delay in posting the next chapter, but I started 10th grade on Thursday and have been busy with that. :( Luckily, I have the weekend now and will hopefully post more this next coming week as well. Once again, thank you all for reading and reviewing! Every word is truly cherished. :) Enjoy chapter nine!

As a rivulet of Mr. Burns' tears strolled down the right lapel of my nightshirt, I wrapped my arms around my friend as tightly as I could and had no idea what else to do. For a few lengthy minutes that seemed to last forever, we just lay there together, Mr. Burns' weeping slowly but surely dying down to smaller, irregular sobs. I just lay there, not saying a word, just letting Mr. Burns cry, and I felt tremendously guilty for not even offering a consoling word. But the truth was, I didn't have a single one to say. Perhaps most obviously because I was unsure of what Mr. Burns was crying about, although I had an idea.

Maybe my speechlessness was for the best, though. In my own experience, I knew that sometimes the greatest comfort someone could offer me was merely a literal shoulder to cry on. Just someone who would be there and hold me in their arms and allow me to cry, without unnecessary questions or musings. Just someone to be there. Even though no one really ever was, at least for me.

I closed my eyes and held firmly onto my love, whose body was now shaking gently and whose snivels had grown soft. It was actually rather healing for me as well, this surreal experience. After years and years of receiving no affection or comfort from my parents or anyone else when I was a child, I decided to fill the void by caring for others and swathing them in the love I had never known. It proved a wonderful solution to my pain, and this was no exception. After the rollercoaster of empyreal highs and heartrending lows I experienced that evening, I was in desperate need of some tangible form of placation.

Then suddenly, the sound of Mr. Burns' wailing impeded. I was grateful. Hearing my true love cry was the worst sound in the world.

I then waited for him to speak, to explain himself, but we continued to lay there, now in complete silence. A few moments later, I heard him take a deep breath and saw his eyes look up at me. "Smithers…" he began weakly. "I'm afraid I've gotten your pajamas all wet."

I smiled slightly and said, "Oh, Mr. Burns, that's quite all right," I began, looking at him sadly. "But you're obviously not."

While Mr. Burns usually would deny any claim that suggested his vulnerability, he must have known he couldn't do it this time. He had been bawling like a small child. He couldn't end the night without explaining himself. He could, however, wait quite a while before doing so. Minutes later, Mr. Burns sighed and said, "Smithers…I…I'm sorry for my little outburst. I'm just so confused." It didn't even really sound like Mr. Burns' voice. It was smaller and feebler and on the brink of a resume of tears. "I don't know what's happening with me. With you. And mostly, with me and you together."

At this point, Mr. Burns would usually have ceased his speech and waited for me to pick up the pieces, but I suppose my friend, the overdose of scotch, inspired a rather telling loquaciousness. Mr. Burns continued, "Smithers, I'm too old for love. That ship sailed and sunk long ago. I'm too broken and weak and just plain outdated to partake in the modern dance of love." He scoffed sadly. "I mean, before tonight, I didn't even know that two males could…well, I wish I had known. My life would have made a lot more sense. And my self-hatred might have been a bit lower if I knew it was okay."

Now I had to speak. "Are you telling me that you have had homosexual experiences before?"

"No, Smithers! Of course not!" exclaimed Mr. Burns. "I thought it was wrong. And while I am usually one to rebel against societal standards, I didn't even know there existed such a thing as 'homosexuality'. I thought it was all in my head. These occasional thoughts that always made me disgusted with myself…well, I didn't know anyone else had ever had them. The point is…even if it is socially accepted in modern times, you and I come from different times, different worlds. I'm too old for you, for love, and we both know that."

"Mr. Burns, that's not true," I began passionately. "No one is too old for love. Especially not you. Like I always tell you, you have the mind and spirit of men in their prime, youthful years."

"You lie, Smithers. I'm no young man anymore."

I shook my head and stared into Mr. Burns' eyes. "Sir, I would never lie to you. Whatever I tell you is what I truly believe. And I truly believe that you're as capable and deserving of loving and being loved as anyone else on this earth."

Mr. Burns looked away and began playing with a loose thread on the covers. "Perhaps I'm not too old for love. But I am too old to have my heart broken again."

I placed my hand under Mr. Burns' chin and turned his gaze towards me. "I would never break your heart, sir. There is simply no chance of that happening. I promise you."

"But Smithers, I don't even know...I've always been attracted to women and so have you. What is this, Smithers? Am I a homosexual? Are you? What is this? And even if it is socially accepted, does that make it right?" asked Mr. Burns. "I mean, I've always sensed that there was something between us besides friendship, and I guess I tried to ignore it, but I can't anymore. I have to accept it and I suppose...explore it, but...this is really all new to me, and I don't know what to do."

"Well, sir, I don't know if you're homosexual or if I am, or if this is just some exception to the rule, but...all I know is that you're right. There is somethng more than friendship here. And I'm willing to find out what that something is, if you are," I said hopefully, still not believing any of this was really happening. My deepest dreams were coming true before my very eyes, but I attempted to remain calm and not become too excited. In case my heart was broken again, it would be easier this way.

Mr. Burns and I peered into each others' eyes again, this time neither of us blinking or looking away, when Mr. Burns said abruptly, "Truth or dare, Smithers?"

"What?"

"Truth or dare? Pick dare."

Unsure, I said, "Um…dare."

Mr. Burns smiled softly and said, "I dare you to reenact the video we watched together tonight. Perhaps not exactly, but…the same conception, at least."

Confused, I pointed out, "Well, two people would be required to reenact it, sir."

Then Mr. Burns put his thin, little hand in mine and said, "Well, I'm right here, Waylon."


	10. Chapter 10

AUTHORESS'S NOTE: As this is the final chapter of this story, I would like to take this time to thank my readers from the bottom of my heart for continuing to read and review this story. This story was originally going to be a one-shot or a few chapters at the most, but you have all motivated and inspired me to continue writing this story and making it is what it is today. Each of you means a great deal to me, and every word is cherished. I hope you enjoyed reading "Slumber Party" as much as I enjoyed writing it. :) I also hope you follow me as I embark on other stories, for I will be sure to follow yours! Thank you again so much, and enjoy the last segment of "Slumber Party".

Umpteen thoughts cantered rapidly through my mind as Mr. Burns began to caress my hand gently with his. _This is happening. Dear God, this is real. There's no going back this time. There's no more denial or safety. This is it: the moment you've dreamt of for more than two decades. The experience you've only seen in your fantasies is right here. Now, go for it. _

I awkwardly kissed Mr. Burns' hand, not knowing what move to make. I didn't really have much experience with this whole thing, but I knew Mr. Burns had even less, so I was involuntarily allotted the one responsible for aggressing the situation. I nervously pulled him in closer to me and we began just kissing and petting for a while, as the fireplace roared a tender symphony.

I enjoyed this as much as I could while my anxious deliberations swarmed violently in my head as I considered what would soon be happening between us. _What if you hurt him? He's such a small and fragile man_, _and the first time is always rather painful, I_ thought apprehensively. _What if you dissatisfy him? And what is to come of your relationship after? What if this makes Mr. Burns realize that there is _nothing _between you but friendship? _

Just as I wanted to strike my mind with a crowbar to rid it of these thoughts, I felt Mr. Burns' hands leave my face and roam down to my shirt, fondling the buttons suggestively. I took his suggestion and began to undress myself, surely blushing terribly in the dark when Mr. Burns offered a small groan of approval at the sight of me clothed in nothing but the winter moonlight.

After helping Mr. Burns undress like I had done so many times before under very different circumstances, we both lay there and for moments simply examined each other in this new light. It felt so odd that the man laying next to me, about to make love to me, was truly Mr. Burns. My boss, the man who paid my salary, who drained my energy with bizarre demands and constant dependence. My friend, who spent practically every waking moment with me, who laughed and joked and deeply talked with me and only me. My love, whose heart I was sure had always drummed in cadence with mine, whose occasional affectionate glances or touches had given me hope through the entirety of my darkest days.

I hesitated for a moment, took Mr. Burns' hand, and asked, "Are you sure you want to do this, sir?" I had to be certain, although I was terribly afraid that my prompting would make him reconsider.

Thankfully, it didn't. "Yes. I'm certain that this is want I want to do, and what we need to do, Smithers. Are you?"

"I've never been surer of anything in my life." I smiled warmly at Mr. Burns, who smiled nervously back. I took my glasses off and lay them upon the counter. _This is it…right now…_

----  
I awoke the following morning in a daze. I rubbed my aching eyes, which only made them ache more, and looked around me torpidly, seeing my two pairs of pajamas tossed about on the floor, a few misplaced tiles from Scrabble here and there, and two bowls of melted ice cream sitting on the counter along with the empty case of my adult video. I looked to my side and smiled uneasily at the sleeping form of Mr. Burns. And then I closed my eyes and reflected upon the last part of the evening.

Making love to Mr. Burns was the most breathtaking and frightening and surrealistic experience of my life. It was slow, steady, passionate yet quiet and calm. And it was purely romantic and purely pure. There was nothing sordid or rough or tainted about it; it was simply a beautiful thing, a great release after years of perhaps mutual longing, an expression of our love. What I had always believed sex was supposed to be. That was what it was between us. At least, I thought so. I wasn't quite sure what Mr. Burns was thinking, as his only sounds during the act were a vague, scattered moaning or two, and after it, he had only rolled over on his side and fell asleep without so much as looking at me. This scared me beyond measure, and I began to wonder if my greatest dream and greatest nightmare were going to become realities on the same night.

As Mr. Burns fell asleep, I was sorely tempted to do the same. I was supremely exhausted, and although dreadfully worried, I decided that only the morning would tell what I needed to know. And for that night, I should just be happy and sleep peacefully, which I did, surprisingly. But now it was morning. And now my fear raced up my body once again.

I boldly turned on my side and wrapped my arms around Mr. Burns' frame, hoping he would awake. I heard a soft, awakening sigh from Mr. Burns as I prepared for whatever was to come. He shifted and stretched a bit in his position and then turned around to face me. I tried to be composed. "Good morning, sir," I offered weakly.

He stared at me with an unreadable expression. "Um…good morning, Smithers. Um…I'll have my breakfast now. Some steamed toast…"

"Wait, Mr. Burns. Don't you think we should talk about what happened last night?" I asked urgently.

Mr. Burns looked away, slinked out of my grasp, and left the bed, using a blanket to cover him. "Nothing happened last night," he said, not looking at me.

My heart almost stopped. "Mr. Burns, we made love last night." I saw him physically cringe as I said it. I paused, my soul aching at his involuntary reaction. "Don't you think we should talk about that?"

"What's there to talk about, Smithers? We can't possibly do it again. You're my employee and my closest friend. We explored what we had to, and now it's over," he said.

"What?" I exclaimed. "Mr. Burns, I thought…" I couldn't breathe. "I thought when you said you wanted to explore it, you meant…you and I as a couple. A real couple. Not a one-night stand. I can't believe this! I can't believe you would do this to me!" I shouted very uncharacteristically, but I couldn't help it.

Mr. Burns turned around swiftly, frightened by my sudden change in persona. But this was it. I wasn't going to be so calm anymore. This was my life and my reason for living that Mr. Burns was just throwing around like it was a chewed-up tennis ball. This was my life and I had to defend it sometime.

I continued fervently, "Last night you asked me to make love to you. Which I did. Which we both did. And now you want to…what? Return to being servant and master? Friends? Act like nothing ever happened? Well, I'm sorry, Monty, but I can't do that." I couldn't believe what I was saying. I couldn't fathom that I would ever talk with such a tone of voice to Mr. Burns. But despite my own shock at myself, I continued unthinkingly, "Maybe last night didn't mean anything to you, but…damn it, it meant everything to me. Everything."

Mr. Burns stood in front of me, clutching the covers around his body insecurely, his eyes wide with fear and consternation. "Smithers…I…it did mean something to me."

I waited for a longer response, and when none came, I insisted, "What, what did it mean to you? I have to know."

"I don't know, Smithers. I don't know!" he began, looking away. "But I'm not like you. I haven't been dreaming about this all my life. I don't have our future planned out down to the white-picket-fence and cherry pie sitting on the windowsill, okay?"

I stared in stunned silence. "You mean, you knew that I have been…dreaming about this?"

Mr. Burns looked to the ceiling now. He seemed to be able to look at anything but me. "Yes, I knew," he said quietly. "I mean, I had an idea, at least. You're not really the master of secrecy and subtlety. So, I played with you, and I toyed with you. I'll admit it, I did. But then I realized that it wasn't all playing and toying. I realized that the thing that was wrong with you was the same thing wrong with me," he said, aberrantly open and honest. "But I just realized that, Smithers, don't you understand that? This is all new to me."

"But does that mean that you're just going to shove it away, because you don't know how to deal with it?" I asked, now furious.

"Usually, when I don't know how to deal with something, I turn to you. But I can't do that this time, so I have to follow what I instinctually know," Mr. Burns explained.

I shook my head. I was not going to let him get away with this. "But just last night, you said you were convinced that you were not too old for love. You said you were sure about this."

"I was drunk and lustful and stupid last night, you idiot!"

For a moment, I just stared. I felt like I could almost literally feel my heart being battered with a heavy hammer. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. "Mr. Burns," I began, my voice cracking. _Don't cry, Waylon, don't cry. _"That snowfall happened for a reason. We missed that prestigious party for a reason," I persisted. "And Mr. Burns, our relationship wouldn't have to really change all that much. You'd still be my boss and friend…there would just be an extra layer to it. Just a few additions, a romantic dinner here and there…a kiss before work, that's all I'm asking. I don't expect you to change for me, and I don't expect that you're going to be constantly loving…"

"Smithers, stop. Just stop already," Mr. Burns said with heartbreaking finality as he treaded over to window. He looked outside wistfully and turned to me a moment later. "It's still coming down pretty hard out there. It doesn't look like we're going to be able to drive to work," he noted flatly.

I said nothing. I barely even heard his words. I just sat there in my bed, my mind blank in complete agony. Mr. Burns looked over at me and realized that I was numb from pain. _It's over. There's no chance. You had your chance, and you only get one. That's just the way it works, Waylon. Now stop crying. _

I barely noticed when Mr. Burns left the room for minutes until he came back and handed me a bowl of ice cream. I took it weakly and began to eat, still in a trance. "Smithers?" Mr. Burns asked fearfully. "Won't you say something?"

I looked up at him, snapped of my spell a bit at the sound of his voice. "What do you want me to say, sir?" I asked with edge.

"Anything. Just say something."

I put my bowl aside and looked into his eyes. "Just answer me these three questions."

"Oh, we're not playing Truth or Dare again, are we?" Mr. Burns, trying poorly to be funny, attempted.

"Mr. Burns, did you enjoy last night?" I asked monotonously.

Mr. Burns shifted uncomfortably and answered quietly, "Well, yes, I suppose."

"You suppose or you know?" I demanded.

"I know, I suppose. I mean, I know, Smithers," Mr. Burns said frightfully.

I understood and proceeded, "And do you love me, Mr. Burns?"

"Smithers, come on," Mr. Burns tried. "You know we're not allowed to ask questions that we both already know the answers to."

"I don't know the answer," I said honestly.

Mr. Burns fiddled with his spoon and said almost inaudibly, "You know I love you."

Hearing that last statement would have felt remarkable under other circumstances, but I could barely enjoy it now. I took a deep breath before my next question. "And is there any chance that you might change your mind? Is there any hope for us?"

Placing his bowl aside, Mr. Burns looked at me and vacillated for the longest moments of my life, before delivering the verdict: "No, Smithers. There is no hope for us." His words fell over my house like thunder. The knife stabbed at my heart again, plunging in and out, in and out, mercilessly. "Hope by definition indicates the promise or possibility of something in the future." Then Mr. Burns' ceased the knife's motion by taking my hand. "And this, my friend, is the present." He smiled.

"What? Do you mean…?"

"Smithers, when I was scooping this iced cream for you, it was a challenging task. And I remembered how you had helped me with it last night. And how you had helped me the day before that and the day before and the day before for twenty-five years with anything I had ever needed. And I was overcome with this desire to scoop this iced cream for you. It didn't make much sense, but I just had to do it. And then I realized why," he sighed. "This is my final decision, Smithers. I have wasted enough of our time with my hesitations and trademark changes of heart, but this is it," Mr. Burns promised, and his voice had never sounded more genuine. "I'm yours, my friend."

I reached forward and embraced him ardently, crying of joy."I love you, sir," I whispered. The rollercoaster had finally come to stop, and I could not have been happier with the ride.

After our lengthy embrace, we stared at each other, smiling. Mr. Burns said, "Seeing as we will be cooped up here for an entire day, we certainly have some time to kill. What do you say, Waylon? Shall we break out the Scrabble or the Twister or just…stay here in bed?" he asked slyly.

I grabbed his hands. "You choose, Monty. It doesn't matter to me. Doing anything with you is paradise to me."

I could have sworn I saw a flash of apple hues light Mr. Burns' cheeks at my comment. He grinned and said, "Then I vote we stay in bed for a while. This is a slumber party after all, and even though we won't be doing much slumbering, it's still appropriate to spend a lot of time in a big, comfy bed, yes?"

I beamed. "You're quite right, sir," I said softly as Mr. Burns climbed in bed next to me.

Mr. Burns was right about a lot of things that morning. We didn't get any slumbering done, and it turns out that I didn't need to. Because the things I had once only seen in dreams while sleeping were now realities, awake and alive, occurring and continuing before my very eyes and in the utterly thankful, rather than hopeful, alcoves of my heart.

THE END


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